Eleven Years Old and Crime Lords
by Airen Rin
Summary: Based on a prompt. When Wall Maria fell, there were problems as a lot of people were suddenly crammed into a small place. A lot of people were desperate to get by. A story in which Eren, Mikasa and Armin turns to crime to make ends meet and accidentally became notorious.
1. Chapter 1

On the boat from Shiganshina, Mikasa realized she was homeless. Again. Eren was still shell-shocked at seeing his mother's death and too busy swearing vengeance at the invading titans. Armin and his grandfather seemed to have the same thoughts as his grandfather tried to inconspicuously rummage through his pockets. Between Mikasa and the two Arlerts, they didn't have much. Judging by nearby ship passengers, they didn't have much either.

There were also some obvious glances towards the three children's direction. Eyes roamed over Mikasa's exotic looks, Armin's somewhat feminine features and Eren's tear-stained face. Mikasa left Eren to the care of the Arlerts and went to 'ask for food'. She didn't find any, but nobody said anything when a couple of passengers disappeared on the way to Rose. Grandpa Arlert's wallet did get suspiciously heavier though.

News on Maria's fall only arrived with the ship, so they got lodging on pure luck. Armin knew that charity from the government won't come forever. Even Mikasa's contribution, they wouldn't be able to survive. He looks at his journal and pencil, the only thing he had on him from Shiganshina. There were only a few pages filled in his neatest handwriting and all of it was about the outside world. Now, it would be his weapon to survive. Armin turned to the next blank page and wrote down the names of the two Garrison bastards who kicked his best friend.

Their permanent lodging turned out to be next to a brothel. The former prostitute didn't blink an eye at charging an exorbitant price for one room to one old man and three children. Even Eren's best 'lost in the woods' act didn't help that much. Still, it meant that they had somewhere somewhat safe to sleep - even if the walls were thin and the roof occasionally leaked. He didn't like the way the old lady eyed Mikasa and Armin either. Armin's grandpa wasn't doing too well either. The loss of his son and daughter-in-law combined with his age left him with a nasty flu. The incoming winter wasn't helping either. Being a doctor's son, Eren knew a couple of tricks to dulling pain, keeping health, secretly and slowly poisoning the abusive landlord next door... For some reason, Armin was always tired in the morning. Maybe it was too noisy for him to sleep? Well, all the more reason to keep poisoning the landlord. The girls next door seemed to have a better time when he's stuck in the toilet.

It was lucky for Eren, Armin and Mikasa, that the first slaver out to break into their new home did so when Grandpa Arlert was out trying to look for a job. In other words, it saved Grandpa Arlert a heart attack from watching an eleven year old questioning a thirty-something man, another kid torturing said man until he answered (being a doctor's son meant knowing about pressure points and other sensitive areas), another kid murdering the man in cold blood and the three teaming up to hide the body.


	2. Chapter 2

Random slavers and desperate men only have so much money. The first time Mikasa tried to pickpocket, her target chased her into a dark alleyway. It was only luck that she had stolen his pocket knife instead of his wallet. The contents of the wallet barely covered a meal. She won't have Armin and Eren starving, not under her watch. Mikasa took another glance at the cooling corpse on the ground. She had chosen this target because his shuffling walk and the bags under his eyes. Now the girl could see the gaunt cheeks and the fraying hems on his clothes. Mikasa wouldn't make this mistake again; she'd pick a better target next time. Double checking to see if there were bloodstains on her (there were none) and tucking her ever-present scarf out of way (so it wouldn't get dirty), Mikasa stepped out onto the streets. Several houses away and partially hidden in the corner, a drunken man had passed out. He seemed like an easy target.

Keeping track of their budgets seemed harder as of late. Between Eren's large purchases for his grandfather's medicine, the increasingly cold weather, and the rent, Armin knew that his grandfather's pay check and Mikasa's bag of groceries wouldn't cover heating. For once, the land lady's advice did come in handy. The older sisters next door had all sorts of tips to keep the budget. (The brothel was classier than the ones a couple of streets down, the workers just a little more protected. That didn't stop the owner from being a pig though.) Armin did remember a few things from a forbidden book he read once. (Forbidden as in his parents and grandfather took it away from him, not because it was heretical.) It was something about clothes or pretending to be a someone else. There was also something about dancing around a pole. Armin didn't understand the meaning; his parents hadn't explained it to him and there was no time to ask his grandfather.

There was a noticeably positive change in their next interaction. While his landlady had tea and biscuits with nice sisters' boss, Armin got more than just a peek at the brothel's ledgers and suggesting a few pointed questions to ask those clients. There were a few familiar and notable names in the book. Imitating the handwriting as best as he could, Armin changed the placements around a couple of names. Usually Armin would offer to help with Eren's chores, but he needs all the sleep he can get. He's not going to be getting a lot of sleep that night.

When Mikasa, Armin and Grandpa Arlert wasn't looking, a permanent scowl rested on Eren's face. The landlady had increased the month's rent yet again, and had subtly hinted 'potential' professions for Mikasa. This time, she hadn't left out him and Armin either. Eren was quite sure that if it wasn't for the fact that they had dubious connections to the Garrison (Hannes must be still alive, right?), Grandpa Arlert would be one of the corpses that frequently popped up in the red light district two streets over and the three of them would be sold off.

It was probably a good thing that Mikasa had picked up a pocket knife somewhere. The first major argument since the bread incident was over who keeps the knife. (Armin kept it, but Mikasa came home the next day with a dagger the size of Eren's forearm and a sheath to go along with it.) Eren was more useful around the house, so the landlady had the tendency to make him do housework and home repair. When he wasn't, Eren found himself bargaining at the apothecaries with Mikasa (who had a tendency to disappear every once in a while, maybe it was that girl thing his dad was talking about?) or foraging with a sleepy Armin in the nearby forest. It was easier for him in the long run, especially since he gets the chance to subtly add opiates into the land lady's stew. (It wasn't like the land lady would be kind enough to feed them...) Sometimes, she would even bring some around to the boss next door. Eren's being told to cook a lot lately... maybe he should up the dose, the landlady might be in a good mood for once and stop demanding the next month's rent in advance.

Grandpa Arlert found a job in Rose's landfills. It was a tiring and thankless job, and the pay barely covered the rent. These days, he barely had enough time to think about his grandson and his two friends. The landlady seemed to get grumpier and grumpier every time he sees her. He made a mental note to talk to his three young charges about toning down their behaviour. (That never happened.)


	3. Chapter 3

Totally forgot to do this at the beginning of the story, I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin. Without further ado, part three. Hopefully part four will be done when I get back tonight.

Mikasa's getting better at stealing. There were several incidents where she had to kill her target; she wanted to avoid that by all means, the police tends to patrol more when a store owner or his family dies in an alley. Despite the food shortages, there were still a lot of people in the market. Under the pretense of buying medicine with Eren, Mikasa's hand slipped into pockets. Items mysteriously ended up in the bottom of her grocery bag underneath the burnt bread- she had convinced the baker to lower the price for it. Money was getting scarce though and it wasn't long until someone caught on that a cute girl with foreign features loiter around places where items of value go missing.

In a dark alley, several bodies of various ages groaned in pain on the dirt. Judging by the ratty cloth around their wrists, they belonged to some sort of gang. They weren't dead yet, but clearly nursed some bruised or broken ribs. Mikasa thought of them like carrion crows, trying to move in while both hunter and prey were distracted. Obviously, they wanted her territory.

Mikasa stomped on the still quivering hand of a particular opponent. Some bones snapped and the other girl fell unconscious from shock. Mikasa inspected her new butterfly knife. Its former owner, a twenty-something year old girl bled sluggishly from her side. The other thief might have quicker hands and a better figure (possibly a prostitute who couldn't make ends meet), but Mikasa had more experience in killing. Out of the corner of her eye, the apothecary door opened and Eren stepped out. He walked past the alley way and paused for a miniscule second before turning down the path. Bright greenish-blue eyes took in an unharmed Mikasa toying a knife in her hand, the groaning bodies on the floor and the hand under her foot.

"Those beasts again?" The question was mild.

"Possibly, they crop up everywhere." They could have been talking about the weather. Eren nodded, hands shifting to hold his packages. Mikasa offered to help but Eren shook his head. Finally, Mikasa picked up her bag of groceries (never forgotten, food was never too important to be forgotten), took one of the more delicate packages and the two continued into the alleyway.

They haven't taken more than a couple of steps before the an older man appeared. Eren could pick up eyebrows and a jawline similar to the other thief before Mikasa's leg reflexively snapped out and kicked the stranger right below the belt. The older man crumpled on the floor, hands covering his important place.

"See?" Mikasa added, continuing into the shadows. Eren glared the man, taking note of the clean hankerchief around his wrist, the somewhat second hand clothes and the whimperings of 'chief' from the shadows.

"You brats." The man wheezed, picking himself up off the dirty floor. He reached out towards Eren. Eren mentally thanked Mikasa for taking needles and glass jars; he had finally convinced Armin to shell out money to buy them. Giving Mikasa a quick glance as she turned around the corner, Eren pulled out his dagger and stabbed deeply into the man's eye. The man fell and didn't get up again. Eyeballing the rest of the bodies on the floor, Eren wiped the dagger clean on the man's shirt before sliding the dagger back into its holster. His sleeve had blood on it. Taking another glance towards Mikasa's direction, (Mikasa would come back if Eren didn't hurry up) Eren grabbed the hankerchief (miraculously clean of blood) and wrapped his wrist to hide the blood. Armin and Mikasa (not to mention Grandpa Arlert) would get worried. Finally he readjusted his purchases and hurried after his adopted sister.

Hannes couldn't describe the relief he felt when Eren and Mikasa emerged from the alley. They were just a little taller and skinnier since he last saw them. There was a suspicious nagging on the back of his mind at the hankerchief around Eren's wrist, something about a cabin in the woods a while back, but Hannes pushed it away. Besides, Eren wasn't the type to join groups of 'human cattle'. It was too bad he couldn't chat with Armin too, but Eren said something about having troubles sleeping. Hannes totally understood. The titans still loomed in the back of his mind, giant gaping maws drooling in mindless hunger. His patrol partner was getting tired of the chitchat, so Hannes remember telling the two not to try alcohol, drugs or gambling and to avoid the alleyways - his squad's been finding a lot of dead bodies lately.

Armin was rather disappointed that he had missed the opportunity to talk to Hannes, but the information that he got last night was important enough. Apparently, he was often over enough to be a regular fixture. His stories of beyond the walls were popular with his new 'older sisters'. Even the boss didn't comment too much on Armin's presence. (This was due to the cookies that the landlady frequently insisted Armin bring over. He had an inkling that she had a crush on the boss, especially since she passed off Eren's cooking as hers.)

From what he had pieced together (from eavesdropped conversations and what little the nice sisters next door told him), the recent surge in deaths around the country came from Wall Maria gangs jostling to get territory. Armin even got a list of gang symbols and areas to avoid. He made a mental note to tell Mikasa and Eren about several important areas to avoid. There was also something about that vengeful slave myth that had the slave trading community superstitous.

Eren wasn't sure why Armin seemed so shocked when he and Mikasa set down his purchases. It was just a hankerchief. The blond boy exhaled what appeared to be a sigh of relief at his words and proceeded to set the table. Grandpa Arlert had a few announcements that during dinner that night. He was 'invited' take part in the Retake Wall Maria Plan in two weeks time. Eren glared into his soup. No wonder the landlady seemed so happy today. He needed to speed his plans up. Good thing he had just resupplied.


	4. Chapter 4

As usual, Shingeki no Kyojin does not belong to me.

Lazy author, trying to avoid having to mention a coin system... but in the end, I couldn't. So it goes as follows: 100 coppers to 1 silver, 100 silver to 1 gold, 100 gold to 1 ingot. Prior to the fall of Wall Maria, a small loaf of bread costs 2 to 3 coppers.

Constructive Criticism would be loved. (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)

Armin was pretty sure there was something fishy going on. The numbers weren't adding up. Despite the sudden influx of customers next door (most of which were also invited to take part in a certain suicidal operation), his older sisters next door barely made more than their usual amount. That said, both landlady and Boss (Armin had taken to calling him Boss, his older sisters called him Boss, so why not?) next door had been acting strange. While the landlady hadn't increased rent, she's also been demanding Eren to cook all the time. The Boss had also started coming over more frequently, leaving his employees to figure out their next customers. Armin got a part time job; he books clients next door. The fabric he bought with his wages turned into three warm cloaks and a new blanket. (The bed was getting too small for one old man and three growing children. Nowadays, they took turns sleeping on a second-hand couch.) There was an elegant design embroidered on the cloaks too. Mikasa had blushed when she said something about a family crest. Armin wondered when Mikasa had learned how to sew. Eren was just delighted that the designe was the same shade of green as the scouting legion.

A casual comment made by one of their neighbours caused a small expedition by three young preteens deep into the red light district. Armin was determined to find out why their rent seemed to keep increasing despite the amount of chores Eren kept doing. (Eren was seen sharpening his dagger one too many times. There was a set tightly shut jars deeply hidden in the corner that Armin and Mikasa had to swear not to touch. Three preteens in matching cloaks drew a lot of attention in the Rose's red light district. Not for the first time, Armin was grateful for the cloaks; the air was greasy and it stank of sweat and other unmentionable things. Armin would have been a lot more scared if it weren't for Mikasa casually snapping the wrist of a particularly rowdy drunkard. Another particular touchy feely hand got stabbed by Eren. They arrived at a particularly rowdy store. The smell of alcohol, blood and smoke was everywhere. Armin grimaced as he peered through the dirty windows. Their landlady and Boss was shown to an almost full table. Piles of wooden chips and paper lay on the table. Thus, Armin was introduced to a gambling parlour.

Once the two building owners were sufficiently high - I mean full, Eren corrected, the two wandered off into the streets with bulging purses. Eren scowled at the pig-like behaviour those two exhibited. Armin wanted to investigate. In Eren's experience, Armin's hunches tend to be right. There was no way in titan-infested lands that Eren would let his (frequently bullied) friend wander down dangerous streets alone. Judging by the dangerous gleam in Mikasa's eye, she thought the same.

The streets were disgusting. Eren smelled pot and alcohol around every corner and urine from alleys. Greedy beasts dressed in a variety of clothing hovered around the edges of their path. There were also some rather shabby looking kids following them too. Eren was pretty sure it was the same ones that were hovering around him for the past month or so. Mikasa's glare (under the hood of her cloak) was enough to deter most of the drunkards, but there was one particular instance where an opium addict (Eren recognized the signs, his landlady's been showing the same symptoms) lunged out towards him. Mikasa effectively stopped her. The addict was pretty once, but her hands had healed improperly and there was a noticeable limp which suggested she favoured one particular side. Eren gritted his teeth, but immediately changed his expression into a neutral one when Armin looked back at Mikasa and him. The next pig who touches one of them will get stabbed.

That gang was back again. They hover and follow Eren around like a flock of carrion crows. Mikasa had seen a few of them wandering down her street, but they usually avoid her and the marketplace. Mikasa adjusted her hood so it covered all of her hair and checked her pockets. All her knives (she had picked up plenty on her frequent market strolls) were there. Experience had taught her that slavers would follow them home - she had killed enough slavers in the alleys. Eren's assailant had muttered something about vengeance and a brother. Mikasa didn't care. This beautiful world was cruel. What Mikasa did care about was when another slaver - a sober, confident one strolled up towards Armin. She couldn't hear what Eren snarled at the man, but she did see the stranger stumbling back, cursing loudly as blood spurted from his hand. It was all the opening that the gang needed. Eren and Armin continued their way down the street. Mikasa looked back as she followed. Let's just say that there's one less mouth to feed.

Eren nodded a greeting at one of the shabbily dressed teens hanging around the parlour. They had met on one of Eren's frequent trips to the apothecary. (Eren had taken to slipping pain relief medicine in Grandpa Arlert's portion of dinner. If it wasn't for the fact that sleeping medicine was also addictive, Eren would do the same to Armin.) Eren had treated Antonio for a nasty burn a while back; the older boy worked in the bakery next door. Apparently, he was clumsy opening the oven door. Antonio's taken to hiding the burn with a hankerchief. Eren thought tying a hankerchief around a wrist was slightly impractical, but it wasn't his problem. Recently, Antonio's been introducing a few more of his friends to Eren. Most of them were older orphans too. It's not to say that he was on particularly good terms with them; Eren occasionally patches up a few injuries that wouldn't heal on its own and warn them off several dangerous streets. (Armin occasionally shares gossip from the girls next door.) It was a good thing they haven't bumped into Armin and Mikasa, it would rather inconvenient to fight (kill) them if they turn out to be enemies. Antonio seemed rather startled at Eren's appearance. His eyes trailed over Eren's new cloak, but Eren didn't have time to think about it. Armin was going inside.

The building smelled even worse than outside. Under all the human sweat and cheap perfume, there was an underlying smell of blood. Both the landlord and the landlady sat at one of the table near the back. Armin took a seat nearby as Eren and Mikasa flanked his sides. His employer seemed to be in good spirits. The bar was too loud to actually hear their words.

"You brats gonna play or what?" Armin snapped his attention back to his table. A man with three cups and a tiny bag of coins sat in front of them. He grinned at them, showing yellow, rotting teeth. Armin shivered under his hood. The man, perhaps sensing his fear, talked down towards them.

"It's a game." His voice sounds like it's trying to go up an octave, but failed miserably. "There are three cups here and bag. When the game starts I put the bag under one of these cups" he demonstrates, "and shuffle them around. Then you pick one of the cups, here, try it." Eren pointed at the cup in the middle. Under the cup was the bag. "See if you had been betting, the bag would have been yours. Want to try?

When three midgets slid into his customers' seats, the con-artist thought about scaring them off. However, the glimpse of blond hair peeking out under a hood, shining as brightly as a gold coin, had him rethinking. Judging by the length of the hair, the blond must be a girl. He hadn't been able to afford a girl for a long time. Well, it wasn't like anyone's going to play tonight, he's been around for several weeks; all the regulars must have seen his tricks. Guess he could go for one last victim... victims. Going by their heights, they must be children.

"You brats gonna play or what?" He asked. A glint of blue under the cloak teased the con-artist's libido. He smiled, attempting to give off a friendly feeling. The three subconsciously drew together. How cute. He explained the rules as quickly and simply as possible, still trying to play the kindly older brother. When he finished, the three drew in a huddle and had a whispered conversation. The con-artist smirked at their ignorance. They must be newly orphaned; none of the streetrats had the money to buy those matching cloaks. The design on cloak was quite original, if not amateurishly sewn on. The girl must have done it. When he wins it off their backs, he's going to have Blondie sew them all together and turn them into a stylish cloak for him. He drifted off into a daydream. Three blond girls at his sides, how lovely.

Armin took another quick glance towards their landlady. She and Boss had gone through another door, but it was open just a crack. If they left now, the creepy guy might attract too much attention to them. He pulled Mikasa and Eren near him and whispered frantically.

"Let's just play a few rounds and leave. It shouldn't matter if we win or lose. We can't attract too much attention here." Eren nodded, but Armin could see Mikasa frowning. "I don't think we could fight our way out. Not with the weapons we have."

Armin does have a point. Mikasa knows there is a trick in the game. She just couldn't figure it out. There's a brief moment where Eren seemed protest, before nodding. Knowing him, it would be something along the lines of how the pig won't let them go so easily. Mikasa agreed with Eren. Her hands patted Armin's pockets, checking to make sure that he had his knife on him. The older man, possibly a potential human trafficker, was staring at them with a dazed look on his face.

The first request came before the human pig even started playing. Eren clenched his fist under the table. What's the point in having hoods if everyone was going to see their faces? Armin certainly agreed with Eren's thoughts out loud. Betting a copper for a good look on their faces? Eren might not have been an orphan for long, but even he knows that this is a bad deal. It took a long second before Armin agreed, but not before negotiating one hood per loss.

It didn't take more than three hands before Armin lost. The creepy guy had that dazed look on his face again. Mikasa reached for her hood before Eren stopped her, citing her Oriental features as a reason the human pig would want to continue playing. He slowly, almost hesitantly pulled his hood off, glancing at the human pig before ducking his head.

If the con-artist wasn't horny before, he was now. Sure, the little brat might not be a cute blond, but there was an aura of innocence that hookers can only try to fake. The brat seemed to be on the verge of tears. Rather shy too, might be a pushover. Another couple of rounds passed before Blondie lost again. This time, she pulled her hood back. Her features weren't what he had expected, but he didn't expect to have her for long. Yet, another few rounds passed before Blondie lost again. No wonder they all wore a hood. Without it, the last brat would have been taken by traffickers before he could have gotten to them. Immediately after he had taken a good look, all three of them pulled their hoods up again. Blondie did make a good enough point about attracting unwanted attention. Enough conversation had passed that he might try asking for their names.

"I'm thirsty." The shy brat stuttered. It couldn't have come at a more convenient time. He offered to buy the three of them drinks. The shy brat gathered up a bit of Blondie's winnings before shuffling off. What an obedient kid. Definitely a pushover.

There's a certain ring in Eren's voice that Mikasa had only heard once, and that was when they met. Armin was about to protest when Mikasa interjected, effectively distracting the two.

"I'd like a turn." Eren trotted away, putting his hood back over his head. He couldn't have let the man bring them drinks, Eren had too much experience with slipping other people drugs. He took three cups of water and a glass of alcohol (it smelled just a bit different than the usual rubbing alcohol) and took it back to their table. They were playing for coppers now and Mikasa seemed to have lost a bit.

He grimaced at the taste of cheap wine. He hates sour things. "Sorry. Dad used to like this kind before he..." Green eyes looked hopefully in his direction. Was that a sniff? No way is he dealing with tears in the middle of public.

"It's fine." Another swig of cheap wine. There would be plenty of time to discipline the brat once he gets back to his rented room. "How long were you out on the streets? Big brother could give you some advice. Come a bit closer, we don't want everyone in this room to hear."

Conversation passed easily for the next hour or so, at least until Blondie hid a yawn behind a delicate hand. He wasn't satisfied with the amount of coppers he had won, how could he, when one of those brats were worth their weight in ingots? Two cold, sharp points pressed into his sides as Blondie promised one last game. Blondie betted all her coppers... which meant that he would have to match the bet. One cup covered a small bag of coins. He shuffled the cups in his most complicated patterns and as quickly as he could. When he finally stopped, two hands, both belonging to the two brats beside him slammed down on two cups. Blondie picked up the last cup. Underneath was the bag, which went into Blondie's cloak.

"Good night." Blondie smiled. It was not a nice innocent smile, but one that made shivers go down his spine. The room was spinning; his legs weren't working. The Oriental brat had cracked his cup, something that a good decade and a half of fights haven't done. Three cloaks swept out, green symbols fluttering with their movement. He trembled. How could he have thought those expressively green eyes as naive? Its owner could kill him and wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

Trembling, the con-artist reached into his pocket for his spare wallet. He deserve a drink and not the cheap whisky in his pocket. Those children couldn't have been human... The last time he had met someone remotely like those three was Silent Shadow several years ago, except that midget worked alone. He wondered what happened to Shadow. That foul-mouthed, black-haired thug was the kind that would live for a long time.  
His spare wallet was gone. The con-artist groaned and chugged down the last of his whisky. It tasted a bit funny and he was more than a bit sleepy. Yeah, definitely the spawn of Shadow. Tomorrow morning, he is getting out of this town.


	5. Chapter 5

A/notes: I thought I would be farther in the story by now... As of yet, Grandpa Arlert is still alive...

I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin.

"In real life...if it fails, nine times out of ten you go bye-bye." - Eren, chapter 17, page 4.

In which Mikasa and Eren kicks ass and Armin take names...

*****  
Eren seemed almost cheerful these days, especially when he cooked for the landlady. He's also been taken to wearing a cloth over his mouth and nose when he cooked. Armin wasn't sure if it was the landlady's request for cleanliness or Eren had a sudden onset of OCD. (Armin remembered reading this a long time ago, it was called Obsessive Cleaning Disorder, right?) The frequency in which Eren had to do chores around the house meant that the rent slowly dropped. The lady hadn't even come this morning for next month's rent, not that it was a bad thing. Boss was usually in a dazed stupor whenever Armin checked in and out. He hadn't even noticed when Armin took the liberty of giving all the workers (himself included) a bonus. Armin pulled his hood up over his head as he and his older 'sisters' strolled deeper into the red light district. One of the sisters wanted to introduce him to some friends over in the next street.

Those older sisters play card and dice games. The rules were pretty simple and Armin picked it up quickly. There was something in his mind about vices, but it wasn't as if Armin was gambling for a hobby, right? From a more pragmatic point of view, Armin had no illusions that their only constant and fixed income would disappear once Grandpa goes away. It wasn't long until Armin amassed a number of coins and an audience in front of him. Armin did find it unusual that he would be allowed to leave the house without being stopped, considering his height and the amount of money he had won. For the majority of his week, Armin went back to the gambling den. He was pretty sure he saw Mikasa talking to one of the players from the day before and the sisters say that a brawl between teen gangs would start up shortly after Armin left. Why it had happened, the sisters didn't say. Judging by the frequency of replaced and repaired furniture, Armin guessed it was quite an usual occurance. He's just glad that the fight doesn't happen while he was there. He's been putting a lot of faces to the names in his book. Taking winnings wasn't hard once Armin infers a few choice facts about the losing opponent.

Eren dropped off another batch of cookies for the Boss and a seperate (unpoisoned) batch for the girls. They've been taking care of Armin for quite a while, so a treat once in a while would be a neighbourly thing to do. Mum had taught him that. (Just because he didn't like his neighbours in Shiganshina didn't mean he would ignore his mother's teachings.) Besides, the landlady won't miss ingredients. (Eren did make sure to mention which batch was for whom... he wouldn't want to accidentally hurt Armin's friends.

Eren hummed as he strolled to his usual haunt (the nearby forest), his favourite (and only) cloak fluttering in the slight breeze and obscuring a well worn messenger bag. (Mikasa came home with it one night.) It's not cold enough to put the hood up, so Mikasa's embroidery was fully hidden. Hopefully there would still be some living herbs he could use. Eren didn't find any, but Armin's makeshift trap did catch a rabbit. It was cute. Watery brown eyes blinked up at its would-be rescuer. Long ears trembled as Eren stared at the success. If only that could be used for titans... he pushed that thought aside. They haven't had meat since... Eren couldn't remember. His mouth watered. The rabbit, realizing that the rescuer was actually a predator, quivered and renewed its struggles. A dagger flashed in the sunlight. A different rabbit (a smaller one, Eren noted in disappointment) in another trap met the same fate. Eren huffed, annoyed that blood had once again stained his sleeve. Good thing he kept the hankerchief with him. Dad always said that people get nervous when your sleeves were stained with blood - even if you're a doctor. Or was is especially if you're a doctor? Eren paused. Why was he thinking of his parents now?

Several alleys away from his place, Eren passed Antonio deep in conversation with several other teens. Just going by the height difference, Eren was reminded of Armin and those kids who called him heretic.

"You lead a gang?" Eren asked, subtly palming the hilt of his dagger. He would hate to get involved with a gangster, much less a gangleader. Those kind of people would sooner or later become beasts in human skin.

"N-no." Antonio stuttered, backpedalling half a step. One of the older teens sneered, unwashed hair falling over feral eyes.

"You t'ink he could lead a gang?" One grubby, tattooed hand reached out towards Eren. Without a second's thought, Eren's dagger scored a bright red line across the tattoo. Blood splattered on Eren's face as the teen howled. Eren grimaced as he slowly untied the hankerchief to wipe his face. Behind Eren, Antonio took another step back at the casual cruelty and the blood already on the younger boy's sleeve. A glint of silver caught his attention.

"Nice knife, kid but this is our terri-" Eren didn't wait for the sentence to finish. He lunged at the speaker, dagger carving a bloody gash from mid torso to stomach. Eren stepped back as his would-be assailant coughed red. A dart of silver was all he got as a warning. Eren's free hand grabbed at a tattooed wrist, but not before the stranger's switch blade sliced into the palm of Eren's hand. Eren snarled, pushing aside the pain and the arm. It's a really bad time to remember what his father had said about major arteries. His dagger swung again. Unfortunately, decapitating a human being was harder than a rabbit's, so the head remained on the neck.

"Anyone else?" Eyes bright with rage, Eren challenged the witnesses. The entire group of teens, even the wounded one, shook their heads in a synchronized, frantic motion. Even the hankerchief had blood on it. Eren pulled it off and began wiping his face. Armin and Mikasa would never leave him alone if he came home splattered in blood. Eren really didn't want to explain why his hankerchief would be covered in blood either. Luckily Antonio had a spare piece, and promised to wash Eren's too. Eren hoped the cut on his hand wouldn't scar. By the next morning, all traces that Eren had gotten into a fight was gone.

Mikasa hadn't decided her next target yet, but a movement down an alleyway caught her eye. There's a little boy being pulled along by a man three times his size and they look nothing alike. The memory of a run-down cabin in the mountains resurfaced. Without her realizing it, Mikasa pulled her hood up and followed the duo. The older man looked like he had money - his clothes were almost new.

The alleyways were like a maze. Mikasa took extra care to stay out of sight. There was no point if she got caught as well. The two stopped in front of a non-descript door. Before the door shut, Mikasa could see a bunch of drunks, all passed out. Something golden glinted on the ground. A gold coin could buy fruits... or meat. Maybe materials to fix the draft next to the window? Armin sleeps there. There were windows in the building above the door. Perhaps it could even bribe off Grandpa Arlert's spot in Operation Retake Wall Maria.

Mikasa looked at her half-empty shopping bag, then up at the window. There's no way she'd leave her things out here to get stolen. Rolling the top of her bag until it looked like a handle, Mikasa bit down. She could wash her mouth later. Slowly, carefully, Mikasa climbed the brick wall. There were a few instances where she had lost footing, but Mikasa reached the window with bitter determination and scraped palms. She peered through. It seemed to be used as a storage area. Mikasa could see maps, rope, a couple of board planks, boxes and is that a lantern? Armin and Eren would love this; candles were too dangerous to burn in their small room unless it was an emergency. Several more looks around the alley and through the window resulted in Mikasa stubbornly pushing up the glass. She caught her breath at the small scraping noise - it felt like it had sounded louder than it actually was. There was a loud conversation downstairs, something about money and brats and women. Mikasa gently placed her shopping bag into the room before swinging herself over. She tiptoed to the staircase, ignoring the blood pounding in her ears.

Mikasa slowly descended the staircase. Stepping over passed-out drunkards, nimble fingers lifted off an ornate pocket watch here, a couple of coins on the table, several knicknacks that would fit in Mikasa's pocket. She didn't count on a large hand grabbing her shoulder.

"What's a rat like you doing here?" The owner of the hand blearily blinked at Mikasa, other hand swigging a full mug of ale. For that tiny moment, Mikasa froze. It wasn't because she was scared, it was because she had no idea what she should do. Mikasa moved, shrugging off that hand and kicking its owner to the ground. Ale splashed against Mikasa's face, dripping off her long bangs. The whole room stirred at the loud slam. Swears and cries for help emitted from the grown man on the floor. Mikasa brought her foot down on his stomach, brutally stomping until other man stopped moving. Mikasa turned to see the formerly passed out men growling at her. She scoffed, dropping several pieces of her loot. Shiganshina bullies move faster than that. In the ensuing scuffle, her hood was pulled down.

If Mikasa was the type to follow honour conducts, she would have picked up everything of value and left the house. Unfortunately, she had one too many encounters with human traffickers.

"What's going on here?" The horrified voice belonged to man that Mikasa had tailed here. Mikasa lunged towards him, her foot breaking the floorboard as she propelled a knife into his chest. Ignoring the group of children in the corner (How had she missed them?), the little boy (who Mikasa followed) seemed more interested in freeing them than in her, Mikasa retrieved her shopping bag and filled it up to the brim. There's a sink in the toilet. Mikasa rinsed off as much ale out of her hair as she could. Finally, Mikasa looted the building of everything of value. She did find a gold coin. Reaching for a particularly nice necklace in the corner, Mikasa stopped as she heard a particularly loud whimper.

"What?" She asked. The group of small children had cleared out the building, but the initial brat stared longingly at the necklace from the door. He didn't say anything. Mikasa growled. "Talk."

"That's my mom's." The words blurred together. Mikasa hesitated, then tossed the necklace to the boy.

"You never saw me." Mikasa ordered as she strode past. Pulling up the hood of her cloak, the girl strolled out of the building.

That's another chapter wrapped up... I think. Which would be better, short, fast updates or long, slow ones?

Reviews and comments keeps me interested in writing this story...


	6. Omake: Grandpa Arlert

A/N: Me no own Shingeki. A short fluff, because it might just get darker after this.

Moral of message: never leave your grandchild unsupervised for long periods of time...

*****

It was Grandpa Arlert's last day living in Wall Rose. Out of sympathy (or perhaps it was pity), the boss gave him the day's pay and told him to spend the day with his remaining family. If Grandpa Arlert had been a lesser man, he would have taken the boss's suggestion and get hammered. Since his pay check was going to support his grandson, Grandpa Arlert can only shake his head at his co-workers offers and trundle home. He decided to take his time. Armin and his friends took care of themselves while he was working all day; they can take care of themselves just a little bit longer before he got home.

For an autumn day, the weather was nice. Grandpa Arlert meandered slowly down the streets. A father and his daughter bickered as they picked apples from a stand. A teenage boy, pulled along by his five siblings. A scouting legion member, still in his uniform, carried groceries for an older couple. Mikasa hurrying along with several heavy bags - where had she gotten them? Grandpa Arlert opened his mouth to ask if she needed help, but before he could speak, the girl had turned around the corner. Perhaps she was running errands at her job?

His walk continued past the river bank. A couple shared an apple under a tree. A group of boys, all around Armin's age, kicked a ball around. Eren, furtively looking out from the alleyway. He seemed rather startled when Grandpa Arlert greeted him. A cloying, metallic smell wafted from the boy's direction. Luckily, their room wasn't too far away.

Two decapitated rabbits sat in the middle of room. No wonder Eren had stank. Grandpa Arlert and Eren were nonplussed at how calm and deft Mikasa was at cleaning the corpses. That, combined with the vegetables Mikasa had brought home, made a delicious stew. The bread this week was only slightly burnt too. Grandpa Arlert thought about giving some to the landlady, but Eren quickly assured him that the landlady had already eaten.

His grandson wandered in sometime around late afternoon, smelling faintly of perfume and smoke. Armin seemed rather startled as he went off to take a shower. Grandpa Arlert wondered what they were doing all day. Obviously, Eren was hunting rabbits. Mikasa in the market could be explained as delivering items. (If only he had checked under the bed.) There were a few trains of thought that Grandpa Arlert didn't want to go into.

Despite the delicious food, dinner was a somewhat awkward affair. Usually Grandpa Arlert comes home after the three had gone to bed, so it was the first time in a long while that he sees them interact. Eren reported the traps that worked and herbs he had brought home. A small discussion ensued about how to change the traps. Mikasa didn't say much, only listening calmly to the conversation. Armin reported about the movement of a few gangs and some gossip from the lovely ladies next door. There was also something about being a cashier. The old man gave a sigh of relief. No grandson of his will prostitute himself, not when he still have a paycheck. Unfortunately, he had said that out loud. That sparked a whole new conversation, awkward in a whole other way.

"So where do babies come from?" Mikasa asked, watching Grandpa Arlert intently. The elder hid a cold shiver. An embarrassing memory of a similar discussion with his son came to mind. He tried to stall for time.

"Eren, didn't your father explain it to you?"

"He was going to tell me after the business trip. I didn't see him after that."

It might be gallows humour, but times like this, Grandpa Arlert wished Armin and his friends' parents were still around. Why does he have to give the Talk twice?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Isayama owns Shingeki no Kyojin, not me. Please put away your lawyer.

Another A/N: So the Word of Isayama has the characters' birthdays! Eren's March 30, 835, Mikasa's February 10th, Armin's November 3rd.

Wall Maria fell in 845. (Going by the trees, character's clothes and weather, it might be late summer, early fall?) Considering that it was (autumn/early winter?) of 846, that grandpa Arlert left for operation Retake Wall Maria... enlistment at (spring/summer?) 847 and graduation at (summer of?) 850. In other words, EMA was only guardian-less for approximately 3 to 6 months and was technically twelve when their reputations start to spread. So the title should actually be: Twelve Years Old and Crime Lords.

Last A/N: The end may be in sight! I'm thinking that there will be approximately 2 to 3 chapters worth of fic left... unless I get any good suggestions/requests.

The first problem arose after the gates of Trost slammed shut. Well, actually, the problem had been there from the start, but it lurked in the shadowy corners of Eren's mind like the whispers of heresy that used to follow Armin around. So when Antonio walked up to Eren with a serious expression, Eren held back a curse at the bad timing. Armin had expressed several concerns of a local gang suddenly gaining power. It was most likely that Antonio wanted to recruit the three of them. Or it could be starting his own.

The older teen stopped at a respectful, yet far distance from Eren. Based on Armin's slow look of comprehension and fear, Mikasa wondered if she should attack the teen. However, since it's broad daylight - right in the market too, in front of the apothecary Eren usually goes to - Mikasa held back. There would always be another time. She memorized the teen's face.

The older teen, what was his name? Antony, Anthony, Tony-something, only gave Armin and her a cursory glance before turning his attention back to Eren. Mikasa stepped closer to hear. There was something about some cloths being exchanged and a bunch of other names before the subject matter that made her fully snap to attention.

A group of strangers had been seen entering their landlady's house. Armin wanted to point out about the brothel next door - countless first timers confused the two buildings. The teen - Antonio, Eren introduced, shook his head and described everything in precise detail from the landlady's eager look to the child sized boxes. Armin's stomach felt like masses of snakes writhing around. There was no doubt what the landlady had hired these men to do. Mikasa snapped first.

"How many?" She demanded. Antonio paled at the murderous gleam in her eyes. He took another respectful step back away from what he probably thought was a harmless (cute) girl. Armin wanted to run away himself. The answers come quickly. Apparently the men were to ambush them inside their room. The older teen seemed apologetic that he couldn't get more information. Antonio's eyes darted between Mikasa's and Eren's.

Eren felt a little bit guilty about Antonio. The older boy just wanted to look out for him. That and return his cleaning cloth. He made a mental note to do something nice for the teen sometime later. Antonio is definitely waiting for something. Ah, it's manners, wasn't it? Eren thanked the older boy before the teen left. Looks like his landlady had decided to speed things up a little. Not like the lady knows the difference between the plants; Eren kept his jars unlabeled.

Mikasa glared at Tony's retreating back. The older teen was rather hesitant about leaving. Mikasa checked her skirt pockets. Her knives and coins were still there. Out of habit, Mikasa swiped the wallet of a nearby shopper before returning it when she saw how little the shopper had. Armin and Eren seemed to have composed themselves by then.

They held a brief discussion in the back alley. Mikasa wouldn't mind leaving their belongings and running away (she can always steal some more), but Eren was in favour of staying. He cited something about dealing with the landlady. Armin had an inkling that something had to do with Eren's rather expensive purchases.

Instead, the blond haired boy suggested about distracting their intruders and taking their belongings. Even with Eren's (enthusiastic) help, there was no way Mikasa could have taken all the men down. Armin pointed out a few places where ambushes might happen, but overall, he knew he would be useless once the fight starts. He offered himself as the distraction. Eren firmly denied Armin that role. The landlady would know something was wrong. Armin wished he wasn't such a burden.

Mikasa excused herself as Eren and Armin headed home. In hindsight, hiding her (still bloodstained) cloak was a blessing. Nobody would be able to figure out who she was when she's climbing on top of roofs. (Not that many people look up.)

Armin wondered how Eren could stay so calm when they are walking into a known ambush. Immediately when Eren walked into the house, the landlady demanded a meal for her and her 'guests'. Eren nodded and quickly got to work, asking Armin for help. Work goes faster when there is more hands, right?

At some point, Armin thought he heard some loud thumps and curses, but he dismissed it as his imagination. Halfway during cooking, his boss came over from next door. If anything, Armin could hear Eren humming, muffled by the makeshift mask.

In a short amount of time, several dishes were placed on the landlady's dining table. Surprisingly (or perhaps not), Armin was pulled into a conversation about the boss next door. Armin didn't like the way their eyes trailed down his body as the landlady's friends devoured the meal. Admidst praises and between bites, (what did Eren add to make it taste so good? He didn't even let his best friend taste test.) the landlady accidentally let out how it would be a shame to sell Eren. Eren gave a manic grin.

"You won't." Eren said, pulling off his hankerchief. "Not if you want the antidote."

Even if the landlady knew there was poison, she can't help but to eat it. Eren grinned, not knowing that he looked creepy. That's what an addiction is. It's even better for him when her guests followed her lead. He couldn't resist showing off. If only killing titans were this easy.

"Not if you want the antidote. My dad was a doctor; he taught me." Eren replied, pulling out a vial of pale green liquid. It was half empty, but that didn't mean anything. For all the diners knew, Eren and Armin could have taken the antidote in case they were invited to eat. Actually, the vial was all poison. About half of the guests looked like they were about to get sick. The other half looked down at their plates (they were scraped clean) in horror. Finally, the largest and most heavyset of them snorted.

"A few beatings would keep his lying mouth shut." The chair creaked ominously as the man clumsily got up. Armin took another step back as Eren pulled out his trusty dagger. There was a brief moment of distraction as several loud thumps came from the stairs. To be precise, it sounded like things were tumbling down the stairs. Eren aimed for the man's tattooed chest. Not that he actually made it. The man was less under the influence than Eren had thought. A quick blow between the ribs effectively sent the blade skittering off into the corner. Eren found himself pinned down as the man searched his clothes. Finally pulling out the vial, the man uncorked it and chugged it down (much to the displeasure of the landlady and Eren's other victims.)

"Armin, run!" If the poison didn't take hold then at least one of them could be safe.

"Eren!" That sounded suspiciously like Mikasa.

"Move and I'm gonna kill this brat."

Armin froze near the door. Eren was uncomfortably reminded of the rabbits he had killed yesterday. The diners were trying to persuade themselves that they haven't ingested poison. Some of them were even confident enough to get up.

"Where's the third one?"

"Like hell, we're telling you." Eren snapped, renewing his struggles. The slap nearly caused him to black out. What if he had remembered the wrong drug? Darkness was creeping in on the edges of his vision. Eren fought to stay awake.

"Get off Eren. Now." Mikasa's voice sounded far away. A familiar looking cloak appeared. There was a faint metallic smell in the room that Eren could barely smell. Blood? Eren didn't want to spill blood. That was always difficult to clean up.

Mikasa knew Armin was smart - all the books had to do something to Armin's brain, but she finally understood why Eren trusts Armin implicitly during the gambling parlour incident. Apart from the one she ambushed in their shared room, every single slaver was hidden where Armin said they would be. Unfortunately, hauling and hiding all those bodies would be a pain, so Mikasa knocked them unconscious and unceremoniously tossed them down the stairs. Nobody came upstairs during those little scuffles, so Mikasa supposed that their plan was working. Pushing a final slaver (still awake, but somewhat dazed) down the steps, Mikasa descended. She made extra care to step on them - they messed up the trio's apartment, so they deserved it. Perhaps it was time to take down the landlady once and for all.

Mikasa wasn't immune to the lady's suggestion about work, but it wasn't until the conversation yesterday dinner that Mikasa fully understood what the lady wanted. Shouts drew her attention. Armin's figure appeared in the doorway, but froze. He gave Mikasa a helpless look, eyes already watering. A couple more words later and a loud slap, Mikasa understood. They can deal with the blood later.

The girl pulled out a knife as she spoke. It wasn't hard, every single one of the intruders kept one. Mikasa stepped into the room. The man holding down Eren swayed slightly, eyes darting to the knife and back to Mikasa's face.

"Put down the knife or the little shit dies." He growled again, fingers tightening around Eren's neck. Eren gasped for breath. Mikasa had to let the knife drop. She couldn't let Eren die, not him too.

"Get those two." Eren's attacker snapped at his buddies. Eren renewed his struggles, gaining himself another slap on the face. By then, Mikasa had already moved. Mikasa slammed into the tattooed man with all the force of a desperate twelve year old girl. The man reeled to the side in surprise. Hair fell into her face as Mikasa clawed at the older man. As soon as Eren was dragged away - Mikasa almost attacked Armin as well - Mikasa backed up. The man stood up, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. A string of curses flew out of his mouth. The other adults seemed to have frozen in place; the landlady looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

Mikasa wondered if she could Eren's dagger - it's rather close, but the man is still glaring at the three of them. So focused was she on the jerky movements of the adults that Mikasa nearly jumped when Armin pressed the hilt of his pocket knife into her hand. She flicked the blade out.

"Back off." She snapped. The tattooed man took another shaky step forward, then toppled onto the ground, holding his chest. He gasped and sputtered.

"I told you that you were poisoned." Eren rasped in Armin's arms. He slowly shook himself free and took a small step forward. A dark smile flitted across his face, quickly replaced by a scowl. Large fingerprints were already appearing as bruises on his neck. "If you move less, the more time it would take for the poison to affect you. You can live longer. It's too late for him though. I didn't expect him to just drink the entire bottle. I do have the antidote though, and I don't know if your lives are worth the trouble of disposing your bodies. Depends if Mikasa and Armin can convince me to part with the vial."

Eren picked up his dagger from where it had fallen, keeping an eye on his landlady and their 'guests'. They froze where they were seated. The boy turned to his friends.

"Let's talk."

Armin wondered how Mikasa and Eren could remain so calm when there was a large tattooed man dying in front of them. It wasn't like the first night with the thief; they actually have witnesses. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking - how in all three walls are they getting rid of the corpse? What are they going to do about the witnesses? Following Mikasa and Eren out into the hall - oh, great, even more bodies to get rid of, no, wait, they are alive - Armin could see Mikasa fussing over Eren's wounds. Isn't there a more pressing problem right now? Like that shady guy in broken glasses trying to squirm his way out of the ropes. At Armin's stare, he stopped. There's also a suspiciously dark stain appearing in front of his pants.

Finally, Mikasa and Eren turn to him. There's a blank and questioning look in their faces. Armin suppressed the urge to start banging his head against the wall. They have no clue what to do at all. He racked his mind for strategies. Letting them go scot free is straight out, so is death - how are they going to hide the bodies? There's violence, which doesn't usually solve anything and might make them retaliate. There's keeping them hostage; financially speaking, that would be rather hard. Selling them to human traffickers - Armin refuse to stoop so low and Mikasa's had enough trauma from them.

"We should put all our guests together." Armin mused aloud, keeping an eye on the tied up men. He vaguely remembered some of their faces. Perhaps if it was free of injuries, Armin might actually know their names. Mikasa yanked their would-be kidnappers by the collars of their shirts (she would have pulled them by their hair if Eren didn't mention lice), and dragged them into the dining room.

"Eren, you really do have the antidote on you, right?" Armin gave a sigh of relief at Eren's nod. They don't have to get rid of so many bodies. Armin took a deep breath before asking again.

"Do you two trust me?"

Feeling relief and apprehension at the same time is like knowing that you're about to throw up and realizing that there is nothing in your stomach to throw up. Armin took a deep breath as he opened his little black book. Blackmail it is. But first, he need to convince Eren that they can't physically dispose so many bodies.

Mikasa didn't feel comfortable leaving Eren and Armin alone to talk with the slavers, but Eren's been giving her the stink-eye for being covered in sweat, dust and dirt from climbing walls and roofs. That wasn't mentioning her dirty cloak. Washing her hair in the sink didn't take long, but Eren did look less annoyed. On the other hand, the 'suggestions' that Armin had been giving suddenly gained a lot of popularity with her reappearance. Mikasa huffed as Eren re-administered the poison to the boss next door. (There's a promise about the antidote again when he signed over the building to Armin.) The man looked almost terrified as she and Armin escorted him back to the brothel. Mikasa wasn't sure what kind of excuse the boss made to the employees, but she did remember the man introducing Armin as the vice-boss or something like that. Her friend merely gave a small smile.

Eren scrubbed at a particularly filthy stain on the landlady's - no, his new hallway as Mikasa and Armin escorted the pimp over next door. The talks had went on for a particularly long time. After Mikasa and Eren tied up their guests, Armin gave them the antidote. A long conversation between Armin and their would-be kidnappers led to Mikasa and Eren taking turns to do guard Armin. (They do need to eat sometime and Mikasa still smelled of sweat and blood. Eren wanted to wash that cloak too.) The doctor's son did not fully approve of Armin's plan. Letting them go practically free? Eren knows his best friend is a genius, but sometimes he has the strangest concepts of honour. Who knew if the landlady and that disgusting human pig from next door come back with the military police? He'd have to make sure Antonio knows about these human wastes hanging around the area - it's only right to repay his friend.

Antonio was conveniently passing through the neighbourhood when Mikasa opened the door outof their new house. He seemed rather relieved and scared at the same time. Armin felt himself relax just a bit. Perhaps Eren was right about the older boy, Antonio was just looking out for them. Armin gave a small wave as Mikasa pushed the man into the brothel. Armin eyed the hankerchief wrapped around the older boy's wrist as Antonio ran up to them. Antonio did seem rather eager to help Mikasa and Eren 'escort' the men out of town. In fact he even brought along several dozen of his friends. Armin noted the hankerchiefs and the tattoos. Their faces were determined as they helped Mikasa and Eren march the slavers deeper into the red light district. They must have suffered losses under the hands of slavers before. His older sisters at his new business seemed rather at ease with the gangsters too. Perhaps Antonio was rather famous in the gangster world? Armin made a mental note to ask his sisters. (Unfortunately, Armin didn't write it down and shortly afterward, he forgot the question.)

Several miles out of town, the boss snorted and looked at his lover-of-sorts and fellow conspirator. She hobbled alongside of him, with an air of a returning survey corps soldier. He knew they should have kicked those three brats out when they killed that thief. Their contacts are most likely dead. The former pimp patted his backpack of all his worldly possessions. As soon as they return from their impromptu 'vacation', three little brats are going to die. Especially that blond kid, what was his name Arbin? Darwin? Irvin? Revenge was more important than money. (Or was it the other way around? He'll think about it once they get back.)

First though, he needs a drink. The exiled boss opened his backpack and cursed. Sitting at the bottom of the bag was an innocent-looking package of cookies.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin.

Last serious chapter before it gets to the funny part, OP. Please expect the next update after Thanksgiving (Canada). I'm expecting super-ultra-busy days at work and will probably go to sleep when I get home.

*****  
Running a boarding house and a brothel between three kids was easier than Armin had thought. (Perhaps it might have to do with his former part-time job?) It's not like the boss was doing anything important, right? It also had to do with the fact that a good portion of the tenants had suddenly moved out with the landlady. (Armin was pretty sure half the guests weren't actually guests.) Eren and Mikasa didn't move out of their one room apartment though. Armin was grateful for that - he might have gone insane from loneliness. (They did, however, scavenged through the newly vacant rooms - Eren with cleaning supplies). Armin wasn't sure what Mikasa found useful in the piles of abandoned knicknacks and old furniture, but he did find several incriminating missives between the military police and his former tenants...

The loss of tenants and the sudden ownership of two businesses also meant that Armin need to find more customers. That's why when Eren turned up with Antonio and his friends in tow, Armin didn't think too much about giving them rooms. (Apparently, Eren found out that they lived under a bridge or something like that.) Hankerchiefs on their wrists aside, they were actually quite decent people. Drafty windows and leaky roofs were quietly fixed. Tenants (the ones that stayed) grumpily coughed up their rent. The firewood box was constantly full. Drunk non-customers and their empty wallets rarely darkened the brothel's doorstep. Sometimes they even accompanied Armin into gambling parlours. Armin constantly had to change gambling parlours; after a couple of nights, nobody would play with him. In fact, Armin amassed more than a tidy sum of cash and favours prior to switching locations. (This came in handy later on during the coldest of winters - especially when only the rich and the police had enough rations to go around.) It's rather unfortunate that most of this cash went to buying food and clothes. He's not going to leave his sisters or Eren's friends starving either, not when they helped him so much.

The only problem was the constant fear. Armin suffered no delusions that somebody (older, wiser and in giant mobs) could take both the house and brothel away from him. It's not like he could tell Eren or Mikasa. He refuse to burden them more. Eren had already volunteered to be the one who talks to their renters about the money. Mikasa was the one in charge of buying them food ever since all the woodland creatures went hiding (or was eaten, Armin wasn't sure which). Armin only had to run the businesses.

Mikasa told herself that it had nothing to do with her parents. If the slavers found out that a group of unsupervised children lived in a building by themselve, it become a target. She had to take care of the slavers before they found Eren and Armin. Casually wiping off the blood splatters from her face with a spare hankerchief (Eren had made her carry one), Mikasa calmly looted the gang's treasury. Several pieces of paper caught her eye - a map and several locations of their associates. Mikasa picked it up without a second thought. It might be out of the way (and the distance quite a bit further) from her usual haunts, but Mikasa wasn't going to take any chances.

Ignoring the whimpers coming from the huddle of chained up victims, Mikasa poured cheap beer over the dead slavers. She's seen enough dead drunks to know what the police would think. It's a good thing the military police are morons. Checking over the room once more for anything of monetary value, Mikasa took out the ring of keys and tossed it towards the group. The jingle of metal silenced all the noise in the room.

"I was never here." The whispered words echoed loudly. Checking to make sure her hood was still up, Mikasa stepped outside and blended into the crowd.

Eren glared at the locked door. Someone owed Armin money and he's getting it one way or another. He raised his foot, tempted to kick the door down, but thought better. Eleven year olds that can kick down doors attracts too much attention. Instead, Eren pulled out a hair pin. Antonio had taught him how to pick locks. If anybody asks, Eren could just say that he forgot his key. The door swings open with a creak. A rotting smell wafted from the interior. Eren wrinkled his nose in disgust. Glancing around, Eren walked into the room. The door didn't shut properly, leaving a tiny crack open.

A dead body sprawled on the floor, hands choking his neck. It was interesting, because as far as Eren knew, the corpse only owed Armin money. Cursing at the fact that he had to search a corpse, Eren choked back his bile as he brushed off the stale bread crumbs from the man's wallet. It's practically empty. Also, something white and fat wriggled out of the man's mouth and plopped onto his cloak. Eren cursed again, stumbling to the nearby bathroom and washing his hands. Once he gets home, he's taking a shower. His clothes are going into the wash too.

The noise drew the attention of other inhabitants of the boarding house. Yanking his hood over his head, Eren palmed his dagger. A small crowd had gathered around the corpse. Some were arguing over who had done killed the man. Others were searching the room for money.

"At least we know why he didn't come for rent." One of them muttered under her breath. Eren growled as he stepped out of the bathroom. Like the others, she was searching the room. Her eyes landed on Eren.

"What are you doing in here?" She asked, walking closer. Her voice drew the crowd's attention. "It's no place for a child."

"Wait," Another woman grabbed her wrist. "He might be the murderer." Eren snorted.

"Don't be stupid. He's been dead for at least a day. I'm just picking up something he owed to my friend." Eren explained, crossing over and taking an envelope of papers from one of the scavengers in the room. The looter had looked like she had found gold or something equivalent. Eren pulled out several papers from the envelope. There were a few coins inside but there was also the Deed of something or something. Eren shoved the papers back into the package. Noticing the annoyed atmosphere rising from the crowd, Eren tucked the envelope away.

"Wait a second." A hand landed on Eren's shoulder. The next moment, blood drops flew through the air, courtesy of Eren's dagger. The owner of the hand reeled back, clutching at a bleeding wrist.

"Don't touch me." Eren snarled, whirling around. The dagger gleamed in the dim lighting. A couple drops of blood fell onto his cloak. Eren grimaced under his hood. First maggots, now blood.

"You know, I could turn you in to the police. There's enough witnesses here for that." A voice piped up from the now silent crowd.

"Not if you end up like your landlord here." Eren kicked the corpse. It rolled over, maggots streaming out of its mouth. A new cloud of stench rose up from the corpse. Eren made a mental note to clean his shoes as well. He started walking towards the door. The scavengers can have whatever they want, Armin would just have to settle for the envelope.

"No way, you can't take care of all of us." The same voice drawled as its owner slowly slid in front of the entrance. Eren growled, readjusting his grip on his dagger.

"You can be first." Eren snapped, swinging the knife at the speaker. A hard smack quickly disarmed Eren, but this time Eren was ready. Another knife entered between his opponent's ribs. In the ensuing dying spasms, Eren picked up his dagger from the floor and slowly wiped both blades with his hankerchief.

"You never saw me." The boy ordered the crowd. Unnerved by the sudden escalation into violence, the group can only nod and quiver silently where they stood.

"By the way, you might want to clean this place up. Dead things have a tendency to spread diseases." Eren advised as he left.

The room was well-lit with oil lamps, not candles. Newly washed clothes hung in a corner next to the window. Dinner (stew and bread that wasn't two days old for once) sat on the table. It was warm and cosy; Armin should have been content with that. Armin glared at the piece of paper in front of him and resisted the urge to tear it up. Yet another business to manage. He glanced up at Eren, who was scolding Mikasa for coming home with bloody clothes again. The girl in question calmly sipped at her soup.

"What do you two do all day anyways?" Armin wondered aloud.

"Buying food."

"Collecting rent." Eren replied at the same time.

"Bullshit." The word slipped out of Armin's mouth before he could stop. Eren fidgeted in his seat. Mikasa gave the blond boy her signature deadpan look.

"I mean, it's dangerous to go alone." Armin explained. "Especially since it's winter and people are getting desperate for food. I'm pretty sure one of the sisters, ah, girls next door wouldn't mind coming along. Or Eren's friends. I mean, look at Antonio. He's pretty reliable, right? Safety in numbers, you know? And if you are having trouble, I think we should work together, right?"

Armin knows he's rambling. Eren was starting to look lost at the deluge of information. Mikasa's deadpan look seemed even more blank.

"So what were you two doing all day?"

Hand raised and ready to knock at the door, Antonio paled at the news. The whole time, the three of them had worked alone? He tiptoed away, hoping with all his heart that the three (scary) kids inside would never know he was eavesdropping.


	9. Chapter 9

Life after confessing their hobbies of choice (read: crimes) took a surprisingly upward turn after that. Sure, there was the escalated fear of being caught with a dead body, fear of being ambushed by mobs of slavers/people looking for revenge, fear of the military police knocking down their door... but conducting their hobbies got easier. Armin even drew out a schedule.

Eren was the first to wake because Mikasa cooks the same way she fights. (It's good when they have mashed potatoes or need to skin and gut rabbits, but any other dish leaves the two boys terrified for their lives.) Eren wouldn't ask Armin to do the job; Armin goes to sleep an hour or so before Eren wakes up. (There's no way he would ask anyone else to cook either, not after how he got rid of the landlady.) After cooking brunch, Eren goes around their properties with cleaning supplies. There's a list of things to do to maintain the businesses in a good condition. Sometimes their boarders would help out. (Especially Antonio, Eren and the older teen had some pretty good conversations about keeping house. Judging by the conversations on how to run businesses, Armin seemed to like the guy too.)

Once Mikasa wakes up, she and Eren would head out for the markets. It's just late enough in the morning that a decent size crowd have gathered. In between actually buying groceries and materials to maintain their properties (Eren still couldn't believe that they're running a brothel and two boarding houses), Mikasa would pickpocket. Eren would occasionally provide a distraction and an alibi. (Not that Mikasa really needed help.)

Upon their return, Armin would be waiting with his ever-present book and pen. Mikasa disappears for some 'girl' time (at which she had never specified that it was staking out and attacking human traffic rings) and Eren would cook supper. At this point, Armin would finalize his older sisters' schedules and hand it over to one of their tenants (who also happened to be one of Antonio's close friends). Apparently Armin had hired the girl because she's good with numbers and great at thinking on her feet. The fact that Antonio was overprotective of her (and by extension, the brothel) was just a bonus.

Armin and Eren would finish their supper (leaving a plate for Mikasa) and take a walk. The fact that the walk would take them into the red light district's gambling parlours and the residences of people who owed Armin money wasn't important at all. Their walks take several hours, with several side detours for Armin to play a few games. He's getting really good at them too. Eren vaguely recalled Hannes saying something about gambling, but they weren't really gambling, right? Armin was just practicing his debate skills and engaging his mind in psychological puzzles. (At least, that's what his dad told him.)

Mikasa meets up with Eren and Armin back at their room. Eren would go to bed, but Armin and Mikasa would head over to their brothel next door. The two would spend the rest of the night dealing with rowdy customers. That was pretty much what happened until they enlisted.

There were a couple of incidents that stood out.

"What kind of soldier are you when you get pickpocketed?" A pair of soldiers bickered back and forth as they patrolled the marketplace.  
"I swear, this is the fifth wallet I lost this month!"  
"Hey you there, have you two seen any suspicious people around?" Innocent green eyes met the soldier's gaze. Behind the soldiers back, Mikasa placed the wallet back into the soldier's jacket, except without the money.  
"No. Mom told me not to talk any strangers."  
"Aren't I a stranger?"  
"But you're police, so it's ok, right?" Eren ducked shyly behind his bag of groceries. One of the soldiers sigh. Behind them, Mikasa took the money out of the other soldier's wallet as well.  
"Ah, never mind. He's just a kid."

"Seriously? That's the fifth suicide this week." Armin said, replacing the bobby pin back into his hair. Eren's better at lockpicking, but Armin needed the practice too.  
"It looks like cyanide this time."  
"Eren, I'm disturbed that you know the cause of death."  
"I use to watch my dad cut open dead bodies. At least they didn't hang themselves this time. That was always hard to explain to the adults."

"Eren, why do you keep on grabbing deeds?"  
"The papers looked important to guys who owe you money, but since they can't pay up, I thought you might like it."  
"This is the sixth bar. Even with Antonio's help, I can't manage all of them."  
"Eh, I know a couple others who might want to help out. They always seem to have lots of free time when I ask."

"You know, the guy at the desk really sounds familiar." Eren commented as the trio stood in line at the town hall. They were waiting for the blond girl to finish filling her forms.  
"Wonder why he couldn't get a new stack of forms by himself." Armin thought out loud as a pair of guards passed by. "Everybody else is doing that."  
"Oh, he broke his knees a couple of days ago while falling down the stairs." One of the guards interjected. "You should see the rest of his body. It's black and blue, kids. Like how your bodies will be during training." She chuckled. Armin made a note to find out who the soldier is, then swallowed nervously. Wasn't that what Eren say to people who don't pay up?

Keith Shadis dipped his pen into the inkwell. It was the overall yearly progress report again. The pen hovered over the paper as the man thought about what to write. The 104th Trainee Squad was full of talent this year, but alongside with it brought rather strange personalities. This year's trainee squad have some rather strange personalities. Like that Braus girl, who kept on sneaking out food no matter how many times she had been caught. Rather ingenious at trapping and foraging, but perpetually hungry and would eat while foraging. Speaking of food, there was also that Yeager boy. He was surprisingly good at cooking for large amounts of people and the taste was less burnt compared to the other trainees (Ackerman and Leonhart comes to mind), but tying a hankerchief around his face while cooking was a strange habit. Shadis was uncomfortably reminded of another recruit that Smith boy had brought in. Thinking of Yeager always bring two others in mind; they were always together. Arlert never seemed to be latrine duty and Shadis wasn't sure that he was sober when he glimpsed Ackerman sunning herself on the female barracks' rooftop. The three also always seemed to be answering letters. Weren't they from Shiganshina? Why would they have so many people writing to them? Keith looked back at the paper and cursed. In his daydreaming, the pen had dripped ink onto the paper and created a giant blot in the middle. Swearing in three different dialects - all picked up from his new recruits, Shadis took out a new piece of paper. He refilled his pen and started writing.

"This year had some rather exceptional new trainees..."


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Officially the end of crime lords unless I have a sudden burst of inspiration. EMA actually never figured out they were crime lords.

Story start~ *****

Jean Kirchstein was a survivor and he knew it. Where his childhood acquaintances had steadily dropped out of the training program (he refuse to acknowledge that some had died), he had ended up with rather decent grades. This is also why he was housed with other males with decent grades.

Jean didn't have anything against most of the top trainees and Marco was the nicest out of them all, but there was something intimidating about Arlert and Fubar. Like sometimes when Reiner said something and Bertholt accidentally contradicts him. Or how Suicidal Moron always pay attention (if not follow) Armin's suggestions.

Free time was always right before bed time. Most trainees write home, read books or play cards. Occasionally, Jean writes home and tells his old lady about the annoyance that is Yeager. He's not writing home today because one of the older recruits introduced a gambling system with chores up at stake.

Armin smiled a dark, evil smile that sent chills up Jean's spine. The smile was gone so quickly that Jean was sure he imagined it, because there's no way gentle, pushover Armin could make that expression, right? And woah, where did Mikasa and the other girls come from? (Not that he was complaining, of course, but the open window does make the barracks a bit chilly.)

The first few hands passed relatively quickly and normally, just to get a feel for everyone's skills. Then it started getting weird.

That one recruit that always mocked Armin and laughed at Eren ended up with a week's worth of latrine duty. Another who had been making blatant passes at Mikasa had the honour of dishwashing duty for a month. Marco guaranteed himself a week of cleaned laundry (from Reiner) and Bertholt ended up with extra bread for the next two meals. Sasha whimpered at that round. Jean found himself with stable-mucking duty for two weeks. Eren ended up with extra cooking duty from Christa (a task that the suicidal moron didn't mind) and Mikasa ... didn't really win or lose anything.

Just as the lights went out and Shadis checked in on his recruits, Jean caught the tail end of Armin and Eren's conversation.  
"If we win too much, they won't play with us again."  
Jean thought back to a particular round of cards. Those three just happened to have a really good hand that time, right? It was only luck, right?

**timeskip**

Being the lowest ranking soldier in the old Survey Corps Headquarters, Eren was tasked with the jobs that nobody wants to do. The stable-mucking and latrine duty, Eren could understand, but who knew Petra would be such a lethal chef?

"What are you doing?" Levi asked from the door. The rest of the Special Operations Squad stood behind him. Eren froze, one hand still on the knot of his hankerchief.

"Keeping my mouth and nose covered in case I sneeze?" Hey, the excuse worked on Shadis, so it would work here, right? Levi's face remained unchanged, but Eren could see the corporal thinking hard.

"Not bad."  
"Great. Another cleanfreak." Gunter groaned. "Are we all going to have to do this too?"  
"Stupid kid, don't imitate the corporal."  
"You're one to talk."  
"Shut up, Petra."

Eren ignored the background noise and continued bickering. At some point, Hange's cackles nearly made him cut himself and Mike sniffing over his shoulders was startling, but the stew was almost done. He palmed a tiny jar of ground herbs (he hadn't gotten over his habit of slipping things into pots at all) and was about to add a pinch to the pot when a hand clamped over his wrists in an iron grip. Levi glared at him. If he wasn't so young, Eren could have sworn he had a heart attack. It's probably a good thing he couldn't hide the dagger under his jacket. Stabbing his superior officier wasn't a good thing to do.

"What is this?" Eren turned red as Mike took the jar and sniffed it.  
"Basil and Rosemary." The older man replied, handing the jar back to Eren. Eren added a pinch under the watchful eyes of the two men, then stowed the jar away. He wasn't going to poison anybody - especially not the people who are supposed to keep him alive. Besides, the rest of his vials are given to Mikasa and Armin. The maneuver gear and regular training would smash the delicate glass.

Levi's expression didn't change, but he released Eren's wrist. Eren rubbed it before resuming his task.

**timeskip**

Soldiers do have time off (especially when winter's weather do not permit expeditions) and it was not unusual for recruits to return home. Since they actually do own some businesses in the red light district, Eren, Mikasa and Armin traveled with Jean and a bunch of other soldiers back to Trost. Levi and Hange had followed along - Levi to keep a watch on Eren and Hange for reasons only known for the crazy scientist. (Supposedly as back up, but she had been heard cackling in her office/lab.)

There's not a lot of things that would create solidarity between two feuding enemies (Jean and Eren), but braving titan territory together and training together lead them to making plans to meet up during their time off.

Levi raised his eyebrows as Armin procurred lodging for them at a boarding house next to the red light district. The rent was ridiculously cheap though and the cleanliness was (almost) acceptable. He did think it was rather strange that he and Hange would have individual rooms while the three shared one.

Jean cursed as he kept a hand on his wallet. Whose bright idea was it for them to meet up in the market? Oh, right, Christa, Sasha and Connie doesn't know the streets that well. On the other hand, seeing Mikasa in civilian clothing is quite a treat. He almost wished he had one of their matching short cloaks. It was a good thing it wasn't raining, otherwise the hood would have covered Mikasa's lovely face. (Levi and Hange trailed behind, especially since they were going to what Jean and the late Thomas Wagner called 'the best bar in town'.)

The red light district was unusually quiet that night. (As opposed to the other nights that Jean had ventured with his childhood friends.) A good chunk of the bar's patrons quickly cleared out when the soldiers took a seat near the back. Funny how Eren and Armin seemed to know quite a lot of this people. (There was also something about how the bartender nearly tripped to serve their table, but that was good service, right?)

After exhausting their gossip topics (and some soldiers just a bit sloshed), the topic turned to stories. Mikasa had some strange folktales from her parents as did Sasha. Eren had some weird anecdotes about dealing with his dad's patients. Armin turned out to have an interesting fairytale about some guy who stole animals and kill a titan. Even Hange had a nice story. Jean didn't know that she was still listening.

Glasses glinting ominously in the firelight, Hange started in a haunted voice.

"There used to be thriving trade in Wall Sina about imported domestic servants from Wall Maria, but it's currently fallen out of favour, you see? Well, legend has it that a domestic servant was murdered by being pushed down the well the night before she had finally earned enough for her freedom. Her ghost wanted revenge and so, night after night, she would stalk the ones who had imported her. Do you know how she looked like? She's all pale and her long hair sticks to her face so that you can't see her eyes. And when she caught them... eh heh, eh heh..." She trailed off into a creepy laugh.

"Ridiculous. Nobody ever helped me." Mikasa gave a (ladylike cough! in Jean's opinion) snort. Jean nodded in agreement.  
"That kind of sounded like Suicide from the Shadowspawn gang." Jean said. The corporal seemed really interested all of the sudden. (There's also a dangerous gleam in Eren's eye that reminds Jean of the shifter's conviction to kill all titans.)  
"Oh? Do tell." Jean wasn't going oppose what sounded like an order.

"They're this town's most power gang. I'm actually not sure how many there are, but there's at least three of them - Poison, Knife and Suicide. Knife is known for stabbing people. Anybody who owes Poison money would die of mysterious causes and it's Suicide to go up against Suicide." Jean shrugged. "I'm kind of surprised that their faces aren't known or that they weren't arrested yet. People say that they were the kids of some thug up in Sina, like the territory inside the Wall wasn't big enough for all of them."

"Don't be ridiculous." Levi said, edging away from Hange's drunken leer. "I never had kids."

A bit of Jean's sanity broke at that phrase. He had heard the rumours, of course...

A sudden and loud commotion on the other side of the room drew the soldiers' attention. A brawl had erupted between some customer and one of the bartenders. Eren's face looked like he was about to wipe out the other room.

"Excuse me." He told the table as he got up. "I'm going to help my friend."  
Levi sighed and got up as well. "A fight sounds nice."  
It was a decidedly one-sided fight that ended up with a couple of stab wounds and lots of bruises. Jean couldn't see who had the knife though, but that symbol he had glimpsed on Eren's cloak...

That green symbol...

Matching cloaks... matching cloaks...

And didn't Mikasa used to have long hair when she enlisted? Which makes Eren and Armin... it was like the world had suddenly turned dark, dark place.

"What did you wipe on my back?" Connie demanded, twisting around to look at Jean.  
"The rest of my childhood innocence."

(Behind the counter, the bartenders continued their jobs with shaking hands. The Shadowspawn and Shadow are on good terms with each other! How are they going to break this to Antonio?)


End file.
